


Things Have Gotten Closer to the Sun

by Southbroom



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Angst, F/M, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southbroom/pseuds/Southbroom
Summary: At the best of times, Alec Hardy can be an idiot.Set after the S2 finale. Hardy leaves Broadchurch to get closer to Daisy. Only the universe has a funny way of shoving him right back into Miller's chaotic life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am desperate for a NON-CROSSOVER, pure Broadchurch, angsty Hardy and oversized-orange-coat Miller story.  
> I am attempting to do just that is this: Hardy. Miller. Feelings.  
> Nothing more, nothing less.

At the best of times, Alec Hardy can be an idiot.

He was sitting on a park bench, looking like the world had literally placed all it's weight on his back. His bony legs were stretched out in front of him, the bags under his eyes stood out in a violent shade of purple. Hardy's long fingers pecked aimlessly at a packet of chips. His gaze remained fixed on one person.

How Daisy had grown. The last time he saw her walking around in this park, she must have been ten or eleven, running around with the other children. Her hair was short then. He could still remember her bulky blue shirt that had the acrylic splats on because - _oh, how Daisy always loved painting_. Now she was sixteen and had skinny jeans and a stylish top on. When did she start caring about clothes? Headphones and a beanie covered her hair. She lay down flat in the grass, staring at the shedding treetops.

He wondered what she may be listening to. A book perhaps. Music. _What kind of music would Daisy listen to?_ Maybe she wasn't listening to anything. Maybe she was using the headphones as a way to block out the rest of the world. At least he used to do that with his Walkman.

The truth was that he didn't know his daughter anymore. It was three years since they had a decent conversation, that didn't involve the painful "How's school." or "How are you doing, darlin'?"

Hardy felt pathetic sitting there, observing her. Hardy felt pretty pathetic about pretty much everything in his life. He had always imagined the moment he solved the Sandbrook investigation to be this emotionally stimulating, liberating sentiment. He imagined walking out the police station smiling. Instead he felt (if it was even possible) more empty than before.

When he got out of surgery he felt angry, but alive. He felt like he had this reborn sense of purpose when he walked out that hospital. He felt like he could fly.

The moment he sat down on that bench with Miller outside the station, he felt defeated once more. The feeling got worse when he left Broadchurch, and when he finally got onto the train, he felt like utter shite.

"Where to then, sir?"

"Train station." he said, eyes fixed on the horizon, darting to the cliffs. _Those bloody orange cliffs_.

"You sure, mate?" the cab driver asked hesitantly.

He told the driver to get a bloody move on. Once at the train station, he didn't turn back in the direction of sea again. He ignored the salty breeze and the lazy blue sky above him.

He had no more purpose in this town. None whatsoever. He had done his penance, solved Sandbrook and reclaimed his health. He came to this godforsaken town thinking he would die there, but instead it had healed him. You can’t stay in a hospital forever.

Sandbrook was only place he could think of going. In his life there had only really been three places - Glasgow, Sandbrook and _Broadchurch_. Although he tried not to, all along the route back he thought of Miller. He thought of their handshake, her promise of "We're not all alone" and her oversized orange raincoat.

Who was going to nag him on about little sleep he was getting? Who was going to be nosy about his relationship with Tess, to swear at him over the smallest things. What about her morning coffee flasks and her silent tears in the hotel room?

Hardy's lip curled. She was the only person he'd miss in Broadchurch.

But Sandbrook it is. Hardy was nothing short of a ralist. There was no old life to get back to in Sandbrook. Things were over with Tess, at the police station. His life could not go back to what it once was.

But there was nothing in Broadchurch left for him either. Miller didn't want him in her Broadchurch. No one in that town ever wanted in there.

So there Hardy was, attempting to get closer to his daughter. He told himself it was fine to first get _geographically_ closer to her. So he sat on a park bench in the heart of the Sandbrook, stuffing a cold chip into his mouth, sighing.

 _Chips_. A reminder of Broadchurch. A reminder of Miller.

 _Shit,_ he cursed mentally.

He was so caught up feeling sorry for himself, that he didn't notice Daisy had gotten up. She pulled out her phone from her back jean pocket and held it to her ear. As it was ringing, she started walking in his direction.

Hardy hadn't noticed how empty the park had gotten. Two minutes ago he could have easily slotted in behind some walkers and disappeared, but now there was nothing obstructing Hardy from Daisy's sight.

As Hardy turned around and tried to hide behind some bushes, she spotted him. Confusion trailed down her face until she stared at him, frowning lightly so that he could see little creases on her forehead.

_Shit._

If only Miller was here to give him a good bollocking, then he wouldn't be in this bloody park, stalking his own daughter.

_Shitshitshitshit. Only idiots stalk their daughters._

"Dad?" she called. When he didn't reply, she stormed up to him and looked at him. Her face was everything he feared it would be, a canvas of disappointment and anger.

"Hello Darlin'." Hardy said, half-smiling in embarrassment.

"What the hell, dad?"

x

It had finally happened.

As soon as she slammed that cab door closed on Joe’s face, she felt in charge. Ellie’s life fell back into some routine. A new routine, free of her husband.

They had repainted the whole house. Fred had started nursery school. She was taking charge of her finances, setting up trust funds for both her boys.

The likes of the Joe, of the trial, of the harsh stares of her neighbours and of Alec bloody Hardy were gone now. Distant memories that were still a part of her, but falling into her backstory. She was living her new life new.

Ellie got offered a promotion at the police station to a DS again. Even though the offer was overly generous from Jenkinson's side, she still could not help but feel a little degraded watching the new DI in his office.

 _The new DI is nothing like Hardy_ , she found herself thinking when he first walked through the door. His name was Joshua Brown, but he preferred it if you called him Josh. He called her Ellie, and sometimes joked around with names as casual as El.

The others at the station really liked Josh. He was the kind of guy you'd ask to make a speech at your wedding because he was that good at talking and making other people feel good about themselves. Josh greeted her in the mornings, occasionally paid for her cappuccinos and languidly shared stories about his personal life.

He was _nice_ , yes, but Ellie wondered if he earned the same respect from them as Hardy did from her.

One day after work when they closed a case on a local drug dealer, Josh offered to buy everyone drinks. Desperate for a night off, Ellie dropped the kids off at Beth's. Ellie wondered when the last time was that she felt so alive. Bob Daniels twirled her in the neon lights of the pub, her skin blushed from a few too many pints of beer.

 

Ellie ordered herself another drink, and when she returned the others were collectively complaining.

"Thank fuck that he left, you're ten millions times better than that knob, Josh."

"Yeah, Josh, seriously, the guy was an idiot. Couldn't talk to a streetlamp. Shitface we used to call him."

" _Shitface_?" Josh asked with amusement.

"That was his nickname. 'Cause that beard looked like utter shit-"

The crowd of detectives giggled in drunken bliss.

"Hey, El's back! Did you get me a G&T too?

Ellie regretted not clearing Hardy's name that night. Yes, he was defiantly a knob. A outright stubborn, sometimes infuriating streak of a human being, but he did have a heart. And Hardy did care. He cared more than most, but more importantly, he was there for her when no one else was.

And yes, she still had the picture of Hardy slouching in his chair in her mind. She could see his flappy hair flap over his forehead. The only thing visible from under his spectacles being his big nose. The only thing proving he wasn't dead was the occasional sigh. She remembered his form behind the glass of the DI office where Josh now sat.

Since Joe's banishment, Tom was doing much better. Still a little broken, of course, but better. Paul Coats had signed him up for some online programming course, and he was busy. Always sitting on the sofa, half-attacking his Mac with his fingers. Tom might be busy, but that didn't mean he was happy. Tom still didn't smile half as much as he used to. He never voluntarily talked to her, and he hardly ever left the house. Ellie was doubtful that he never would ever smile as much as he did, and she was sure his depression wasn’t going to end any time soon. But at least he was busy. At least he had purpose.

Staying busy was one of the things Ellie's therapist recommended for recovering after the case. She said finding a hobby could help you recover faster and connect with new people that wasn't part of the Joe scandal.

Ellie nearly laughed out loud when the woman suggested she should find one of those adult colouring-in books, and she actually did laugh when she suggested cooking. Ellie had never been good at cooking. That was always Joe's turf, and now Tom had made it his.

Ellie didn't need to go find a hobby straight after Joe got arrested. Instead, Hardy made her work on the Sandbrook case. At the time she was angry because it made her feel like she was, once again, working for Alec Hardy. She only afterwards realised how much good it did for her, the purpose it gave her when she thought her life had lost it all.

Ellie hoped this coding thing would do the same for Tom.

If there was one reason Alec Hardy bombarded himself into her life, it was to teach her to put one foot in front of the other. It needn't matter if were so weak you couldn't walk. You could be crying, trudging, swimming through rivers, you just have to keep on moving forward.

x

Hardy had felt like an intruder in his own house plenty of times throughout his marriage, but never more that he now. He felt like he needed permission to make a cup of tea. He even had to ask where the bathroom was, because Tess had changed _everything._

All the old photo frames of the three of them as a family had been replaced by ones featuring Daisy only, or only Tess, or Tess's sisters. Hardy wondered why all women had to repaint the house as soon as their husbands left. Miller had done that, but she made her house look better. She also had reason to: _Joe was a murderer_. Ellie had the right to start over.

Tess, on the other hand, was trying to create herself a new identity. She was covering up their marriage of fourteen years as if Hardy had never been apart of it. She painted all the walls white. Not white, but sterile, come-back-from-the-dead, hospital ceiling white. The fridge that used to be covered in magnets that he and Tess collected were all gone. When he had the chance, he peaked into their old bedroom and found a new mattress, bedside tables and redone wooden floors. The part that touched Hardy the most was that Tess had knocked out the walls of was his old study. His study, where he kept his books and his music and his _stuff_. The one part of the house that was his place had now been covered to a guest room and bathroom.

 _Am I truly just_ _some parasite you have to get rid of?_ There were no memories, reminders or traces of him even visible in this house. Hardy shrugged it off, but it still hurt. A lot.

Daisy had bought him home from the park about three days ago. Not to Tess's agreement, Hardy was sleeping in the guest room. He picked up Daisy from school every day and, much to Tess's protest, cooked dinner each night.

Although he had the feeling that neither woman wanted him back in the house, he was staying as long as he could before Tess kicked him out. Again.

Daisy remained retreated in her room until Tess corned Hardy one day.

"When do you plan on leaving?" she asked in her most artificial friendly voice.

"Tess, I am going to stay here for as long as I can. I want to-"

"Yeah. I'd love you to come and invade my house and mess up Daisy's routine-"

"Your house?" Hardy asked, taken aback.

Tess's eyes narrowed. "Why did you leave Broadchurch?"

"I wanted to get closer to Daisy."

"Yes, okay, fine, but may I remind you this is my house now. It might still look like your house, but it's mine."

"It doesn't look anything like our house." Hardy snapped back. "You redid everything."

"And that's a bad thing, now is it?" Tess burst out. "I just wanted a new start-"

"You can't change what happened!"

Their eyes met, and he felt nothing but warning signs go up. It was like they were re-enacting the years before they got divorced. Tess's gaze dropped and Hardy looked at his hands.

"What are we doing." he asked.

Tess sank into a chair and Hardy leaned against a sterile wall.

"There is still some of your old stuff under the stairs." She said calmly, "I thought you and Daisy might like to go through them."

"Thank you." Hardy said, meaning it and hoping he sounded sincere. Tess wasn't exactly known for being kind, so when she did do something thoughtful, you had to be grateful.

"I will stay until we go through the last box. Then I will leave." Hardy promised.

She nodded and Alec made his way to the guest room again. On the way, he spotted Daisy sitting on the staircase, obviously still busy eavesdropping on their conversation. She gave him a small smile, and then shuffled back to her room.

x

Sending her last email to Josh for the weekend, Ellie shut her laptop closed and went downstairs. On the couch was her two children. Tom was busy with his programming, and Fred was watching an episode of Shaun the Sheep where the goat eats everything on the farm. Ellie wondered if it was Fred’s fifth or sixth time watching the episode.

"Lunch, boys?"

"No thanks, mum. We just had sandwiches."

"Lunch!" Fred held up a discarded plate and some crumbs rolled onto the carpet.

"Oh. I wanted to eat something at the pier. Why didn't you call me?"

"You were busy working." Tom said, "I know how that new guy keeps you busy."

Busy was an understatement, Ellie thought. She had the keep up with her workload, and half of Josh's as well.

"Well I'm going to the pier anyway. Do you want to come with? Fred?"

He looked at her with big eyes.

"Do you rather want to watch Shaun, hey, lazy boy?"

“Please, Mummy.” Fred smiled and turned his attention back to the screen.

"I guess that's that then. You fine with looking after your brother, Tom? It's not as if he's doing much."

“Fine.” He groaned, sounding irritated at the concept of playing childminder.

"Right, I'll see you two in a bit. Behave!" she shouted, catching Tom roll his eyes as she left the house.

Her mind was on Josh. He wasn't exactly the best detective, and he used Ellie more like a secretary than a DS. She was forever watching CCTV evidence for him, answering mail on his behalf, and she was sick of it. She will have to go to Jenkinson on Monday, because otherwise she'll never have free time again.

Hardy would never have done that. He never did. With him it was always overlooking and making everyone else look unprofessional. She smiled at that. Hardy was the kind that would forget to sleep because of work.

But where the hell was he anyway? It had been two months since he left. _Two whole months_ without a text message, phone call - nothing.

Was he working? Was he in Sandbrook? Ellie seriously doubted he would be in Sandbrook working. He and Tess can't stand each other in plain conversation, so how would they partner on a case?

She and Alec Hardy were a much, _much_ better team than her and Joshua Brown. When she and Hardy stopped bickering and fell into sink, they are like a machine. To think that together they solved Sandbrook in five weeks, which Hardy and the whole Sandbrook Police Department couldn't solve in three years. She and Hardy were opposites that just balanced out. It made her wonder what other great cases they could have been doing together.

She sighed. _Alec Hardy_. It was hardly him that she missed anyway - she missed the company he gave. She missed the presence of another human being by her side. If you spend every moment's free time with a person and they disappeared one day, of course you'd miss them. If the waves stopped crashing, colliding, _kissing_ down on the shore, of course the sand would miss the water.

And it was not as if was not as if she was never going to see him again. She would probably have to show her face in court once the Sandbrook three go through trial. If he was working as a detective again they would bump into one another at regional meetings together. Maybe he'd ask her to have a catch-up cup of tea some time.

Ellie's face turned scornful stared out at the sea. What was she thinking? This is Hardy. You won't heard from him if you beat the information straight out of him. She kicked a large clump of grass in that general direction of the beach below her.

The big blue ocean stared at her, for a few minutes, reminding her of lost time and regrets. Of course she bloody missed him. She did miss him, godforsaken bloody stick of a Scot he was, _is_ , somewhere out there, with his daughter. She missed his long stares and quiet conversations. But he was somewhere far too far away for him to bicker with her.

x

"Have you been waiting here the whole time, dad?" Daisy accused, looking rather disappointed.

"Nah- not the whole time. I've been reading the paper." He replied, "The world's going to shit, as usual."

Daisy shook her head. "You need to get your job back, dad. You're like a lost puppy." She said, looking at her father objectively.

He, just like her mum, was defiantly in the middle of a midlife crisis. Daisy was doing her best to patch up her father, and she had made enormous progress. So far he had put on 3 kilos just by moving back in the house with Daisy and Tess. Daisy made him apply for a job again, and with a little sneaking around, Daisy made contact with his old pub friends. It was slow progress, but she had gotten as far as making him shave his scruff off that morning.

Perhaps that only thing she really needed to give attention to was his head hair. It hung in his eyes like windscreen wipers, and made him look like a posh schoolboy at the end of the summer holidays. Just as Daisy was about to suggest they go to the barber on the way home from school, Hardy's phone rang. Loudly.

In some kind of trance, admiring the countryside rolling by, Hardy jumped from shock to the noise of screaming voices and screeching guitars. His phone went flying to Daisy's side of the car.

"Bloody hell!" He yelled, and the car took a turn off the tar of the road.

"Shit! Dad?" Daisy caught it the phone with one hand and felt her seat belt doing it's job by gripping onto her chest. The Peugeot cut into some hedges, but Hardy swung the steering wheel and hit the brakes so that they came to a stop on the side of the road.

Still holding the phone in her had, Daisy's eyes turned to her father. They were like daggers.

"What the hell?" Daisy accused. "Was that _Enter Sandman_?"

Hardy looked at her and then at the phone. It was still busy screaming at him. He snatched the phone back from her, and in the process of getting it back, he hit the ignore button.

When Metallica finally shut up, it hit him that there was only one person who had _that_ ringtone on his phone.

"Shit." He hissed at himself, and then a louder " _Shit!_ " at nothing in particular.

Daisy stared at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry, darlin'. Are you okay? Nothing broken?" he asked, gently reaching for her hands, until he got side-tracked. "Is the car okay!?" he exclaimed and hopped out like a spring hare. Tess would literally _kill_ him if anything happened to her car. Hardy inspected the side of his door, and found no dents, but instead a few scratches from the hedge.

" _Shit!_ "

Daisy got out the Peugeot. "Anything that mum will notice?"

"Your mother once noticed a small oil stain on her bumper and gave me three weeks of hell for it. If she doesn't notice this, I'll buy you a beer."

Daisy made the same noise that she made when Hardy showed her his pacemaker scar. The side of the Peugeot looked like an open wound of metal.

"Ouch. At least mum's got decent vehicle insurance. I think."

"Yeah- well shit. She'll make me to pay for it anyway. Or make me sandpaper and repaint her whole car for that matter."

"She won't, dad." Daisy said.

"And what makes you think that?"

"She won't trust you to repaint her car. She has insurance, I'm sure of it. She and Dave were arguing about it before they broke up. Besides, if she wants you to pay, I'll just give her the _dad-is-unemployed-and-going-through-a-midlife-crisis-and-he-has-a-life-threatening-heart-condition_ lecture. She'll leave you alone."

And with that, their eyes met, and the two of them burst out into laughter. "You're a idiot, dad."

"Trust me, I know that." Hardy said, and she laughed so hard her belly ached. After a few minutes of more car-related humour, Daisy asked squinted at her dad's phone.

"Who was that calling you anyway? With that metal ringtone?" Daisy squinted to read the screen. "Miller? Is he a-"

"She." He corrected, "Millah's a she." He was looking at her like it was rather obvious.

The teenager stared at him for about two seconds, and then sighed: "Oh. I see how it is." Daisy raised her eyebrows and smiled slyly. How she looked like Tess when she did that. It actually scared Hardy. "You don't have to say _anything_ more."

"Wh- What?"

"It's that Ellie woman, isn't it?"

"Howdoyu-"

"Mum told me about her." Daisy cut him off with a wise look on her face. He wondered, what exactly Tess told Daisy about Miller. Hardy never really considered what Tess's opinions on Miller were.

"Well, don't just stand there, dad. Are you not going to phone her back?"

x

"DI Alec Hardy. Leave a message." As the beep sounded, Ellie pressed it dead. _Of course he won't answer his bloody phone_ , she thought to herself, kicking another clump of grass down the to the beach. Ellie made her way down the damp cliffs and ordered fish and chips by Uncle Berty. In the middle of a conversation with Jocelyn and Maggie, her phone rang again. She sat down on the nearest bench and set her fish and chips aside, pressing the green button.

"Hardy?"

"Miller." he replied.

"Hardy?"

"I can hear you." he said. "Miller?" he said, pronouncing her name without his Scottish rumble.

"Yes?"

"Well, you called me." he prompted.

"Right, well. I wanted to know where you are. It's been two months, you know. You haven't said anything. Not even a bloody text message." she said.

"I noticed."

"What?"

"I noticed it's been two months."

  
"And you didn't think to call?" Ellie didn't mean to get angry. She couldn't help it that he was sounding so daft. "You could have died, for all I know. Gotten another heart attack and-"

"You didn't call either, Miller." he said, boring down the line.

Ellie paused. She didn't really think about that. He didn't know what has been happening to her either.

"Anyway. Where am I? I am pulled off at the side of the road just outside Sandbrook."

"What? Why?"

"Because I almost crashed the car. Remember that time I had my phone on silent and you changed your ringtone on my phone?"

"Yes." Ellie recalled. "Yes. Wait - _the Metallica_?" Ellie recalled it properly.

"Yeah. That shite music you downloaded. Well, it caused me to pull into some hedges and-"

"You crashed your car because my ringtone gave you a fright?" Miller blurted out, suppressing laughter, and not succeeding.

Hardy remained quiet for a while. "Well, yeah." He was dead serious. She could picture his face, a shadow of irritation.

"It was supposed to be a joke. Are you okay?" She asked, sounding less concerned than she was. If he truly crashed his car…

"Calm down, Miller. I'm fine. Nothing happened to Daisy either."

"Your daughter was also in the car!? I could have-"

"Listen now, Miller. Daisy is fine." Hardy assured her. Daisy looked at him when she heard her name. "She is fine, the car is fine. I'm fine."

"Aw, _shit._ You know I'm never going to forgive myself."

"It's okay. As soon as Daisy's cast comes-"

"What?" she stammered. Her insides curled up when she heard him chuckling. "You're joking."

"Yeah." he said in an amused tone.

“You just made a joke.”

“You should record it. Might never happen again.”

“You just made another joke.”

"Where are you, Miller. It sounds very windy."

"Harbour Cliff beach."

"Right. I can hear those gulls. Are you eating fish and chips?"

"How did you know that?"

"Just a guess." He smiled. She was probably also wearing that orange tent of her’s.

"So I take it you're talking to your daughter again?"

"Yes. Well, it's been hard, but I got her back." Daisy gave him a look. "It's going pretty good, actually. Except that I've been living with Tess again."

"With Tess? You didn't get back together with her?"

"No! God no." Hardy said. His eyebrows rose into his hairline. He never wanted to open the chapter with Tess again. "No. If anything she hates me even more. Tells me every day that I should find a job and get out of her skin. Well you know how she is."

"Yeah." Ellie agreed.

"How are the boys?" he asked, eager so change the subject.

Ellie told him about Fred starting school and Tom with his coding. Daisy didn't recognise the man she was seeing. Her father was smiling at everything this Ellie woman had to say. Ellie told him all the latest gossip in back Broadchurch. About Lucy's new boyfriend, how Jocelyn and Maggie had moved in together. About little Lizzy starting to walk and about Susan Wright threatening Nige's life because he stole her PlayStation.

"He did what?"

"Stole her PlayStation. Broke into her caravan last Tuesday and then, well to make a long story short, they both spent a night behind bars. Nige for petty theft and Susan for confession of attempted murder."

Hardy almost chuckled. "Ridiculous town you live in, Miller. So glad I-"

"Dad?" Daisy called out from behind the Peugeot's bonnet.

"Hold on a second." he told Miller. "What is it, Dai-"

Hardy froze. Held high above her head was one of the grey wing mirrors of the car. The wing mirror. The car. _The Metallica incident_. Tess. It took him a few seconds to register that the wing mirror must have been attached to the Peugeot.

Daisy started laughing at his face, because it looked like he just saw something giving birth.

"Dad?"

"She is going to kill me." he whispered.

"I am not going to kill you." Miller said.

" 'M not talking about you, Miller." Hardy said, "The side mirror of Tess's car broke off in the accident."

"Oh."

"This is - I can't" Hardy stammered.

"Jesus Hardy, can't be the end of the world, can it?"

"Miller. You don't understand."

"It's a car part, it can easily be replaced-"

"No Miller. Don't you know... Tess loves cars more than she loves people."

"It's true!" Daisy shouted, still laughing at her dad.

Miller smiled. "Hardy?"

"Yes?" His voice wavered.

Miller joined Daisy, and pretty soon the three of them were struggling to breathe.

"She'll kick me out tonight, I'm sure of it."

"No she won't."

"Yes she will." Daisy said.

"Yes she will!" Hardy exclaimed between chuckles.

"Are you crying, Hardy?"

"What? No." he said, but that was quickly proven wrong by a gulp of air and a sniff. "Not crying." Hardy said again, fiercely wiping his hairy cheeks.

On the other end of the line, Miller dropped the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. She's seen him cry before, of course, but that was after he cried. It was the day he left, straight after they closed Sandbrook. His eyes were red and puffy that day. Hardy was his usual haunted self that day, not this stranger who was busy giggling.

"You still there, Miller?" he asked. His voice seemed light and vibrant, and she had herself wandering what his face must look like.

"Yeah." she said.

"It's just nice to hear your voice again." he said.

She was silent for a while until Hardy realised what he just said. That statement could be interpreted as something outside the realms of friendship. Did Miller that that he "You still there, Miller?"

"I'm here."

"I better get this sorted out. The car, I mean. Tess will..."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Well, bye then."

"Bye."

"Bye Miller." he said. He got back into the car, the door slamming silent. After a moment, balancing the wing mirror on her lap, Daisy asked: "So when are you going back to Broadchurch?"

x

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of angst from both Hardy and Ellie's POV in the beginning of this chapter. Sit tight. (As the title implies) things are getting sunnier soon :)

"Ellie! Josh has given you a shout!"

Ellie Miller was sitting in a toilet stall, doing her best to try and keep calm. She was going to lose it. How did this situation escalate into Ellie effectively being Josh's personal secretary? Why were people so quick to take advantage of her? She poked the elevator button and stormed through the office straight to the kitchenette. Josh was leaning against a counter, chuckling along with Bob Daniels.

"Josh!" she fired, not caring about her red cheeks.

"Hey! Ellie. I just wanted -"

"I'm going out for lunch." she cut him off. "For about two hours. I need to see my children once in a while." she said.

Bob was staring open-mouthed at Ellie, his toast in danger of doping onto the floor.

"I'll see you in two hours, after you did _your_ work." Ellie ordered bluntly. She let his surprised gaze linger on her face for a moment before turning around on her heels.

All through her walk back to her car, she could feel her boss’s stare on her back, but she didn't care.  _Hopefully he gets a bloody wake up call_.  _I am not the DI._ She though crossly.  _Yet._

Since Fred’s start of nursery school, he had contracted a cold which had escalated to a dry cough the previous evening. She and Fred had both slept very little, and the result was an irritated disposition that finally burst when Josh called on her for the umpteenth time that day.

Once calmed down, Ellie started feeling slightly guilty. By the time she was picking Tom and Chloe up from school, a task usually reserved for Beth, she was embarrassed. Josh wasn’t balancing their workload correctly, but shouting at him in front of the entire station was a far cry from an adult, diplomatic solution to the problem. She cowered at the thought of seeing him the next day. There was no way she was heading back to the office later that afternoon. She had to sort out her head. _Give the office an afternoon of gossip first._

Ellie groaned. A part of her suspected that Josh was the kind of man who would act as if nothing had happened. What would she do it that happened? What if she _still_ had to do _his_ reading for the Flanders case?

She set off to tackle Tom with his Maths homework until the algebra was frying her brain as much as her son's. Then it was trying to set Fred down for nap, once Lucy had dropped him off. After a brief glance over her emails her youngest was hacking again. She gave him a handful of pills, than attempted to get yogurt into his system.

She scooted upstairs to retrieve her forgotten mobile, leaving Fred to his own devices for a few moments. When she returned, he was balancing on a chair, rearranging bookshelves.

"Fred! Could you not!"

A vase went shattering down onto the carpet.

“Fred!”

He looked at her with wide eyes.

"Don’t going messing about the house." Ellie scolded, examining the damage.

In the process of checking the extent of the shards of glass, Fred started, in typical toddler fashion, crying. He stood on the chair, moaning at the top of his lungs.

 “Hey now.” She gathered him into her arms, pulling him off of his feet. Ellie suddenly felt like the worst person, driving all her frustrations of the day out onto her children.

“Everything okay?” Tom called from his bedroom.

“Fine” she replied, turning her attention to Fred in her arms.

“Sorry, Freddie. Mummy’s just a bit stressed at the moment.”

He nodded from his position in her neck.

“But you really can’t stand on chairs and mess around. What if you get hurt?”

“Sorry, Mummy.” He croaked. The space on her blouse where his head had been was wet with tears.

As she and Fred gathered the pieces of glass, Ellie found herself wondering if she was doing enough, being the best mum that she could. The thought was unsettling.

The vase had not been something precious to her, being a wedding gift from one of Joe’s cousins, but it did resurface some memories. Ellie wondered how Joe would have handled Fred breaking the house down, or how he would handle Tom’s mood swings. He was the stay-at-home-dad, and despite the novels she could write about his wrongdoings, Joe had always seemed to intuitively know that was wrong with either of their boys.

“All done, Fredkins. Ready for some Shaun?”

“Shaun the Sheep!” Fred grinned.

Ellie got working to boiling some baby carrots on the stove, looking at her son's tightly-curly head out of the corner of her eye.

She sighed, stating at the vegetables bobbing up and down in the pot.

She was doing her best. That was the most she could offer her children. And Josh. And Beth. And Broadchurch. Her best.

 _Hardy would like these carrots_ , Ellie thought to herself, fishing for the stash of teabags at the back of the cupboard.

She spent an unnatural amount of time examining where that strange thought came from.

x

"Look at you!” Daisy remarked, pointing at her father’s old passport photo. “Grumpy, even back then!”

" ‘s not!" Hardy disagreed, looking at his twenty-something-year-old self and shaking his head. He was a lot less grumpy then than he was now.

The contents of his old life was scattered around the living room. Boxes were stacked around them like an arena of sorts, all eyeing the father and daughter sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

"Well I think you looked handsome." Daisy observed, "But not in that photo, everyone looks shit-"

"Language!"

"- in their ID photos. I mean, look at this one."

She passed him a card from the box. He frowned, not recognising where it came from.

_Dear Alec_

_Merry Xmas! You're spending the next one with me, okay?_

_Love Tess xox_

Stapled to the one end of the card was a blurry photo of Hardy wearing a PC cap and uniform. The photo must have been taken in the spur of the moment, because there was other officers in the background, looking at the camera, pulling funny faces. His hair was airborne as he spun to face the camera.

"Were you and mum dating yet in this photo?" Daisy asked, setting the box of photos on her lap.

"No - ur - I don't think so."

"You don't remember?"

"No it's just-"

Daisy knew the answer: He was terrible with women. It was about three years of misread signals until he finally started dating Tess, and Hardy didn't feel like admitting it to his wise fifteen-year-old.

He placed the photo back into the box, watching his own face stare gleefully back at him. The polaroid ink still shone back at him, his eyes looking strangely golden in the flash of the camera. His arm was thrown around Tess’s shoulder, her own eyes fixed on his face in the photograph.

"We weren't dating yet. I was in Scotland that Christmas."

"Oh, yeah?"

"It was that year your Gran died. I had to be there for Grandpa. And Aunt Margie." He said. It was the worst Christmas of his life. The coldest, whitest, saddest Christmas of his life.

Daisy's eyes grew big. "Gran died that October, right?"

"No, the November." Hardy recalled. November the fifteenth, eleven thirty in the morning, in a hospital bed, Margie clenching onto her hands.

"She was sick for a long time before that. It wasn't a surprise."

Daisy nodded. An odd sense of déjà vu overcame Hardy. He remembered sitting on the floor of his parent's flat with his sister, also sorting through photos, after their father’s passing, a few years after his mother’s. He remembered the eerie knowledge he’d learnt: that two lives could be compressed into boxes of letters and photographs, orphaned possessions and outdated furniture. All of it gone unnoticed by the world. Forgotten.

He looked at the card again, rereading Tess's round handwriting.

Hardy supposed that this is what people might think of his marriage when he’d gone. The bad photograph of two PC officers with their arms around each other; the subscript  promising a romantic relationship. A few years later there was numerous wedding photographs, and then, over and over again, the beautiful child they had made together.

No photos showed him carrying a drowned Pippa out of a river.

Or Dave shagging his wife in their marital bed.

There was no recollection of him, fresh out of intensive care, being thrown out of his own house with two holdalls and vague plan of taking Claire Ripley to a pathetically small town on the Dorset coast.

No, there was no photographs that recalled the bitter split of a marriage, or the heartbreak of a child. If a stranger were to find Alec Hardy’s photo box, what would they assume happened in the last few years of his life?

"Yes, your mum was irritated with me because we planned to spend Christmas weekend together. We had a row before I left. I think she sent this was a sort of peace offering."

"Did it work?"

"It did cheer me up." Hardy said truthfully. Anything was better than spending constant time with his father and sister.

"Fancy that, mum making you happy." Daisy joked, pulling a skew smile.

He picked up the shoe box of photos and set them aside. They both stared at it for a minute.

When his parents were making life a living hell for him and his sister, he promised himself that he'd find the right woman. He vowed that his daughter would not grow up in the same circumstances as he did.

But there she was, smiling sadly, haunted by the wrongdoings of her parents. Every day, Daisy was affected by the truths, or rather the lack of them, that he and Tess kept from her.

"I'm sorry, darling." Hardy whispered, wan. He was apologising for everything and nothing in particular.

Daisy shook her head, her eyes looking avoiding her father’s. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, briefly, before picking up the next box from the mountain.

In a heavy, but comfortable, silence, she sorted through old records, documents and trinkets. Hardy enjoyed watching her, occasionally explaining the significance of something, and throwing out that which had no sentimental value. At some stage through the process, Hardy's phone beeped.

"Is it Ellie?"

He fished for his glasses. It was Miller.

**you’re welcome.**

It was a less friendly reply compared to her usual long texts. Usually he was the one typing shorter replys. Was something wrong? No, he decided. He was reading too far into it. Miller was just busy.

He had asked her if she knew of any police stations that were in need of a new detective. She had sent the number of the CS form Weymouth a few days ago. He had since made contact and arranged an interview, but neglected to thank Miller.

"Yes, its Miller.” Hardy rolled his eyes at his daughter, hastily typing a reply.

**Sorry. Thanks, Miller.**

“How’d you know it was her?”

"Daughter of two detectives."

x

Ellie had put Fred to bed when she busied herself with laundry, sorting whites from non-whites into separate baskets when there was an alert knock on the front door.

For a terrifying second she assumed it was Joe.

“I got it!” Tom shouted.

Ellie darted out the kitchen, hoping to protect him before-

Of course the man at the door wasn’t Joe. At all.

That bastard didn't have the coward to ever come back to Broadchurch. 

Ellie relaxed, and then puzzled at the sight of Josh in the doorway, a bottle of red wine in his hand and a dog at his feet.

“Hullo. Who are you?” Tom asked.

“I’m DI Joshua Brown. I’m here to see Ellie. You must be her son? Fred, is it.”

“I’m-“

“He’s Tom.” Ellie said, “Fred is my youngest.”

“Oh, apologies, Tom. Hey Ellie. I just stopped by to give you this.”

He slid the bottle into her hands. Ellie gazed at the label. French. It looked expensive.

“Okay…” she said uncertainly.

“Consider it my sorry.”

“’Sorry, what?”

“My apology, I mean. For unloading half of my work onto you.” He rubbed the back of his head, peering at her determinedly, “It won’t happen again. I am sorry.”

Ellie was touched. She knew that Josh was a charmer, but she had considered him to be in the bracket of the arrogant type of charismatic man. This genuine apology was… unexpected.

Ellie invited him to stay for a cup of tea, which he did, bringing his giant golden retriever inside. After a brief discussion of work, they moved onto the latest town gossip. Josh left an hour later when then had finished the bottle of wine. The alcohol had loosened the tension from the tiresome day, and she found herself laughing at his easy jokes.

“I’m sorry, El. I admire someone who can stand up for themselves.” He said once he was at the front door again, “I admire that in a woman.”  

With a touch to her cheek, Ellie was left to decipher the meaning of her new boss’s words.

x

Hardy had pressed his ear to the wall, feeling briefly like a spy in a movie. He was trying to work out what the voices were saying in the opposite room, but there was no use.

The Weymouth police station had thick clay brick walls, making it impossible to hear anyone from the next room. Hardy pattered his hands on the back of his chair,  awaiting the CS’s return.

CS Pratley had offered Hardy a position as a Detective Sergeant. Hardy had taken it based off on the decision that he would not get anything better within such close range to Daisy. A DI position would pop up soon, he was sure of it, he just had to wait for it. In the meantime, a DS position would have to do, because Tess was less-than-hinting that she wanted him out the house.

When Pratley returned, Hardy was introduced to DI Watts. A balding redhead who looked a few years his junior. It was strange to think Hardy, Detective Inspector of nearly a decade, would have to work below the man instead of above him.

He was given a desk opposite Watts and immediately assigned to a case involving a burglary.

“What exactly are we looking for?”

“A Toyota.” Watts clarified, “That went missing on the night of the sixth of November.”

“It says here: ‘possible sighting on Foxglove Road’. Where is that?”

Watts sighed. “You’re really eager, aren’t you, Alec?”

Hardy bristled at the use of his first name. “What do you mean?”

“You’re barely here twenty minutes and you’re already into it.”

“Well, where is Foxglove Road?” he asked again, irritated now. Why were people so surprised when they came across others who actually _want to do_ police work. Were they not coppers?

After a PC Herbert had given Hardy a rolled out map of Weymouth, he set so work tracing a possible path of the Toyota.

 “This would be so much easier if we had the number plate.” Hardy sighed.

“Out-dated CCTV. I tell you, it will be the end of me.” Watts agreed.

 “Oh, Sir!” PC Herbert called out.

Upon instinct, Hardy replied “Yeah.” at the same time as Watts said: “Yes, Emilia?”

Watts shot him a wearily look.

“Sorry, _Sir._ ” Hardy said, his insides cringing with embarrassment. This was going to get some getting used to: addressing people as “Sir” and not answering when people called Watts “Sir”…

“The CCTV from Abbotsbury and Bridport.” PC Herbert placed a memory stick on the edge where Hardy and Watts’ tables met.

 _Funny_ , Hardy thought. It was almost like the case was creeping closer and closer to Broadchurch.

x

Like a meerkat sensing the presence of a predator, Ellie shot up in her bed. She knew everything was wrong all at once. She felt too well rested and the room was too light and – _Shitballs!_ – it was 9:44.

Ellie practically flew out of bed. Whilst trying to pull on clothes and do make-up and the same time, she cursed the universe under her breath. Friday, of all days, her alarm decided to commit suicide. Fridays morning first things was when she had her usual meeting with Jenkinson. What was wrong with her? She never was a late sleeper.

In an impressive seven minutes flat, Ellie shuffled out onto her driveway, and three minutes later she was busy parking in her usual spot at the police station. Adrenaline singing through her veins, she decided to call Tom before heading up to face the dragon.

“Tom!”

“Mum, I’m at school-“ he whispered.

“How did you get to school this morning?”

“I called Auntie Lucy.”

“And? I was still at home. I overslept! Why didn’t you wake me?”

Tom explained, in a hushed voice, that he thought she had left early for work. Ellie countered that she never went to work early and that she always dropped him and Fred off at school, as part of their routine. Tom slurred that it was no issue, and that Lucy was happy to help. He ended the call in the middle of her apology.

Ellie huffed. She had a strong suspicion that Tom was upset about Josh staying for wine earlier that week, in combination of her telling him to get off his laptop. 

Whatever Tom opinions of that evening and of Josh, it was still cruel of him to play so very independent from his single parent.

Tom would have dressed Fred himself and have made his little brother lunch. Ellie wondered what horrible conclusions Fred’s teacher would have reached when her thirteen-year-old dropped off her four-year-old at school.

Did Tom think that Josh came over for a date? She had to admit that it would have been easy for him to interpret it as such with the wine and the jokes and the kiss goodbye.

The kiss goodbye.

It wasn’t like that the next day at work. Josh was back to being friendly and never mentioned his odd comment about “I like that in a woman” and whatnot.

Ellie would have to talk to Tom, and then cursed herself for not finding the time to talk to him already. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, and, shamefully, she felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes.  

Her boys still needed her, she knew. But she had not been there this morning and they were… fine.

She dug in her pockets for a tissue.

God, why was she so fucking lonely? She just wanted someone to talk to. Some one to assure her that she wasn’t the bad mother she feared she was.

The only other person the really  _talked_ to and asked advice from was Beth. Beth was a good listener. But even since she forgave Ellie about Danny's case, their friendship remained strained. Often times she felt she could talk to Beth about certain things anymore. Ellie couldn’t imagine complaining about her difficult teenage son when Beth’s got taken away from her.

She could call her sister. Then again, Lucy didn't exactly give you a chance to talk, she just went straight to over-exaggerated teasing. She shook her head at the memory of when Lucy first met Joe and told him about all the times Ellie apparently 'cried at the wrong time'.

"There me and all my friends were spread out on my dad's sofa, waiting for those Gremlins to eat that guy - oh you don't need the context, really. But just as we all started screaming, Ellie started crying."

"I was a child still, Luce. It was scary."

"Sis, you were fourteen when we watched that. You even had _nightmares_  afterwards. Mum had to tuck you in…"

Ellie shook her head. She couldn't help crying in movies. She could help but cry at everything, really. It her first instinct, completely engraved into her being. She couldn’t help being so emotional all the time. She dabbed her face with her sleeves, getting out of the car. She couldn’t change anything by hiding in the car park.

With everything from case files to her phone to a water bottle clasped under her arms, Ellie trotted into the office. She exchanged awkward glances with her co-workers, knowing she probably looked crazy since her hair was still loose; she was wearing hastily-applied makeup; and looked like she had cried a bucket.

To Ellie’s absolute horror, Jenkinson was obstructing the kitchenette, sipping tea - her gaze unsettling.

“Morning, Ellie.”

“Morning!” she half-shouted, “I am incredibly sorry… I overslept completely!”

“This is the second time you’re late this week.”

“I know.” Ellie breathed. Last time she was late because Fred forgot his costume at home. It had been some or other dress-up day at the nursery school. Fred’s teacher had phoned her, stating her the importance of her son’s participation in class activities. Ellie had turned the car around immediately to fetch his lion mask.

“It won’t happen again, Ma’am.” She said, tightening her grip on the papers in her arms.

“Right.” Jenkinson said, giving her a small smile. Her boss passed her a mug of coffee, and Ellie accepted it.

“Come to my office in half an hour.”

“Okay.” Ellie agreed. She attempted to return Jenkinson’s smile, feeling her face pull in an unpleasant way. She turned away at once, feeling her cheeks burn. _This is the worst day…_

Ellie made her way into her office, and a number of things all happened at once. Firstly, the doorway appeared to be occupied by something solid - a person – which she collided into like a meteor hitting earth. Her chest impacted with the other chest, which hit the floor, which caused her coffee to come showering all over her head. She opened her eyes and saw a close-up, high definition view of a grunting man’s face.

She hissed, the boiling water burning her scalp. Ellie did her best to squirm off of him, only to slip in the coffee and collapse on his chest. Again.

“WhatthefuckMiller?!” He groaned.

“ _Hardy?_ ” she asked in disbelief, leaning back to see that, yes, it was indeed Alec Hardy’s sour face staring up at her.

If timing couldn’t be any better, Bob Daniels popped his head around the door.

“Ellie – whoa. What's going on? Are you okay?”

“Christ on a bike!” Ellie exclaimed, finally getting off of Hardy’s bony body.

He grunted and attempted to sit up on his matchstick legs. Ellie ran a hand over her now sticky hair.

 Bob leaned down to help her up. “Are you quiet alright?”

“What just happened?” Ellie sighed, touching her now-throbbing forehead.

“Oh, I don't know.” Hardy snapped, “Could it be something, perhaps to do with the fact that you just ran onto me like a bull in a china shop?”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, “Then why  _the fuck_ were you standing in the doorway?”

Hardy’s eyes widened and Ellie felt the temptation to shout some more, but she bit back a hurtful response. “Why are you here?”

“Morning to you too, Miller. No need to be so cold.” Hardy said hotly.

A few more people had arrived at the doorway to see what had made the noise.

“Out! Nothing to see here! None of your business! It’s not like you’ve never seen Miller before!”

Ellie hated it when he missed the ‘r’ in her surname.

“Must I get medical up here?” Bob asked, trying his best to restrict a smile. “Or a mop maybe?”

Ellie growled at him.

“Okay then…” Bob stalked off.

After wiping most of the coffee off the floor with a tea towel, Ellie returned from the kitchenette with two cups of tea. She found Hardy looking positively bored in her office, seeing that he had hung up her wet papers on the blinds. 

“Ta.” He said, taking the mug from her.

Hardy placed a protective hand over his chin, and Miller realised she was mirroring her with her hand on her her forehead – the places of impact. Ellie knew that if she was in a better mood she could see the humour in the situation, but anger coloured the office red.

“Have you been crying?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She snapped, “What are you even doing here?”

He was quiet for a moment, observing her in a way that made her feel self-conscious. For a moment Ellie feared he would bring up her crying again, which made her panic because she felt very near the edge of tears again. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of Hardy. But Hardy didn’t. He looked down at his now-stained shirt and fell back into professionalism.

“I am looking for CCTV from the night of November the sixth of this year, most likely of a blue Toyota entering High Street between 11 pm and 2 am.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. He was doing his _bam bam bam_ thing again. “So you’re here for work?” she said, asking the question deliberately slow.

“Yes.” Hardy frowned, “It’s a Toyota, Hilux model. 2007. A blue one. So I thought that Bob and – ur - whatshername could get the footage for me.”

“So you got the job in Weymouth.”

“Yes.” Hardy said, “I told you that.”

“Did you?” She took a sip from her cup, “Did you really?”

“I ur… think so.” He looked confused.

“ _Mph_.” Ellie raised her eyebrows at him.

“Ur… are you still angry at me?”

“No.” she said in an icy tone, standing up. “I have to go and see Jenkinson.”

She left Hardy at her desk, his face that of someone trying to decipher hieroglyphics.

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really fun to write! I drew inspiration from a particular DW scene for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mnJX0ydvfBw
> 
> Please remember to comment. Your words are what inspired me to write Ch2. I have more lined up for these lovely characters, but I am open to any ideas. Let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hardy sat fidgeting at Miller’s desk, awaiting her return from Jenkinson.

 _I’m not prying_ , he told himself as he opened Miller’s draws, hoping to find a note with her computer password written on. He wanted to get into her computer to see if he could access previous cases of theft reported to the Broadchurch Police Station.

The draws were filled with stationary, tissues and-

_Of course Miller would three family-sized Kit-Kats stashed in her drawer._

But nothing about her password. Hardy was left to guess.

Looking at a framed picture of her children beside the monitor, he tried ‘tomandfred’ and then ‘fredandtom’ as well as combinations of the names with capital letters, not getting anywhere.

He racked his brain, thinking what on earth Miller would make her password.

‘Passw0rd’ brought him no success, not that he expected it too. Miller had more imagination than that. Scowling, he tried ‘kitkat’, then ‘KitKat’ and then he had an idea.

Miller’s computer made a friendly Microsoft sound and he was in.

‘scotchegg’.

He smirked. Mille. He knew her so well.

The most recent case of theft in Broadchurch was a case of shoplifting in that year – committed by an sixty-something woman. The next one was a few missing sheep, taken from a Mr Allen Glasson on his farm in 2014. Further than that there was mostly petty theft and shoplifting cases, dating to a few a year, all committed by different teenagers.

Hardy groaned. No obvious suspect then.

“Ellie! I about the Flanders evi-“ the man stopped at the door, staring at Hardy. “What are you doing back here?”

“It’s good to see you too, Brian.”

Dirty Brian looked straight at his face and then proceeded to turn on his feet. “Tell Ellie I was here.”

“Nice weather we’re having!” Hardy shouted at Brian’s back, rolling his eyes.

Why did Brian look like he’d seen some kind of alien lifeform? He hadn’t been gone more three months! He would never understand these people. He knew that he was… difficult but sometimes it really was not him. Not that Hardy expected to find a sudden personality change from Dirty Brian.

Then again Brian was always friendly to Miller _(who wasn’t friendly to Miller?)._ Hardy recalled when Miller was still married to Joe and Brian had asked her out. Hardy remembered the first real joke that they shared together about _Dirty_ Brian. He smiled. It was uphill getting any sort of eye to eye with strangers and that smile from her had meant a lot to him at that time.

He recalled Miller’s horror when she reviled Brian suggested something beyond the solid line of her monogamous marriage. He remembered how jealous he was of her solid, if naïve, outlook on the subject. Tess’s affair had left Hardy deeply suspicious and distrustful of humanity, and then Danny’s trial had started.

Seeing someone rooted with black-and-white morals had been his biggest issue about Miller when he met her. Seeing that removed from her made him feel like a monster.

Trust was the luxury he had stripped from Ellie Miller.

Joe, the supposed perfect husband, was not near as flawless as she had thought. And no one could win back that lost part of her, much less a man as petty as Brian.

Not that it was his business at all.

Hardy received a text from Daisy – an internet link to a real estate website showcasing a flat up for let in Weymouth. He groaned.

His daughter was too good for him. It was hardly her responsibility to help him get out of the house. She was sixteen and wise beyond her years. She had school to worry about – and friends! She didn’t need to worry about babysitting her forty-nine-year-old father.

**Looks nice. I will contact the agent. Thank you, darling.**

Still, he was touched. This level of care was not something he should take for granted. It didn’t exist two months ago.

**You better!**

“You’re still here?” Miller asked. She was standing at the door, looking weary.

Hardy paused, her expression reminding him of Dirty Brian. And these people thought that _he_ was rude?

“You seem in a better mood.” He observed flatly.

She glared at him.

 “I - er -  made a note of the details of the vehicle. On a document on your computer. I don’t want to bother you any longer, so...”

It was amazing how the look Miller was giving him made him feel small considering he was at least a head taller than her.

“Is this that Toyota thing you were blabbing on about?” Miller intervened.

“Yes.” he said.

“Right.”

A beat.

“Well I should be off. Goodbye, Miller. Sorry about-“ He gestured to the bump on her forehead.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Bye.” He said, ducking his head to his feet.

“Wait. Did you drive here?”

“Train. I don’t have a car.”

“Oh right.” Miller said, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Tess’s is at the panel beaters until next week.” He said, immediately regretting mentioning his ex-wife. Whatever amusement he had managed to kindle on her face had faded. The office fell back into silence.

“I’ll walk you to the station, yeah?” she said, “I need some air. Then you can tell me about the case properly, yeah? I wasn’t paying attention before.”

“Okay.” He said uncertainly, watching her put on the traffic cone coat over her shoulders.

With winter approaching, the harbour was void of the usual crowds of tourists. The grass on top of the cliffs was a duller shade of green than he remembered, and the waves a pensive grey.

Miller’s hair – that was not pinned up as it usually was - raced across her face when a gale of wind swept past them. She turned her face perpendicular to the wind so that her curls were less of a bother, looking straight at the horizon.

“I am sorry.” Miller mumbled, “I overslept this morning. Been grumpy ever since. And then Jenkinson shat on me. It’s been a day.”

Hardy tried to remember if she had ever apologized to him in the past and could not find a single recollection. Still, she looked less combative than she usually was, like she was tired of being angry at him.

“ _It’s alright. It’s been a day for me as well_.  _Hell, it’s been a weird three months for me_.” Was on the tip of his lips, but he settled for a “It’s only 11:05.”

“Don’t remind me.” She sighed, “So how do you know this thief is from Broadchurch?”

“We don’t.” Hardy said, “I’ve been watching CCTV and the Toyota turned off the A35 either here, in Charmouth or in Chiderock from Weymouth.”

“And how do you know they didn’t get off onto a farm? If it is a Hilux, you say, then isn’t there a higher possibility that it was a farm vehicle?”

“Right you are.” He agreed, “But then there is a lot more people that live in the towns.”

“Chiderock is hardly a town.”

“I know. I was there yesterday afternoon. I was trying to not call Broadchurch a village for fear-“

“Broadchurch is not a village!” 

“I know that.”

“Population of 15 000 last year.”

“14 999." He said, deadpan, "I left."

“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Trying to be smart, are you? Look, my skull might be thick, but your chin is damn sharp.” Ellie accused.

Hardy’s eyebrows contracted, “Don’t go blaming me, Miller. I’m not the one bulldozing into the office.”

“I wasn’t bulldozing!”

“Believe what makes you sleep.”

He was unsure if they were arguing or not. Stranger yet, she had an expression on her face that he could not read. An expression that evaporated when she saw him looking. By the time she fixed her gaze on the boats bobbing in the harbour, she looked dejected.

 _What did he do now?_ Hardy was kicking himself, confused by her mood swings.

What could that have possibly said to make that happen? He searched his mind for possible conversation topics, but in the end he decided to get back to the case, not trusting his own social skills to ask her what was wrong.

“I checked the system. It doesn’t look like there are historic computer thieves that have been reported to Broadchurch previously.”

“I wouldn’t think so, no.” She paused, “And stealing computers out the second floor of a community library would require an accomplice, I assume. Passing them through the window and so on?”

“The CCTV shows only one figure getting back into the Hilux.”

“That doesn’t mean the person who helped couldn’t have stayed behind.”

Hardy thought for a moment.

“What would you do with stolen computers, anyway? Who would buy them? Is there a market for that sort of thing?”

“It’s nearly four thousand pounds of computer equipment. I am sure there is a market for monitors and keyboards on discount.”

“Have you interviewed the library yet?”

“My partner is doing that today.”

“Partner?”

“Watts. Yeah.”

“Any good?”

“Watts? Early days.” Hardy said.

“If you could just email me the CCTV from that night, I’d appreciate it. And be on the lookout for a blue Hilux.”

“Same old email?”

“Yep.”

He stopped in front of the station door, his hand finding his coat pockets, wishing that Broadchurch was bigger and the walk lasted longer.

“Thanks Miller.”

“Yeah, bye.”

He thought briefly that she was going to shake his hand again, but her hand only swept up to wipe more curls out of her face.

“See you when I see you.”

“Yeah. See you then.”

 

x

 

Ellie had to do a lot of explaining to everyone about where she got her lovely purple bruise from.

Lucy jumped straight to the conclusion that her sister had had wild sex, and that the bruise was a hickey. Ellie nearly snorted when she though of Hardy giving her a love bite, but refused to tell her sister what she found funny. Lucy, who cowed "Harder, Hardy!" whenever the subject of the scotsman came up would have a field day if Ellie explained the ridiculous mental image that came to mind of her and Hardy...

Josh came up with a story of her rock-climbing Briar Cliff. Beth - by far the most sensible of the lot – thought that she had fell off of somewhere.

By far the least impressed with the mark was Tom.

That evening Ellie stood at the mirror in the kitchen passageway, sticking a large Spiderman plaster onto her head, when Tom walked in.

“Hullo.”

His large steps were already skipping up the stairs when she called him down.

“Oi! I’m your mother. Come and greet me!”

Tom’s overgrown form trudged into the landing, looking unimpressed.

“Where have you been?”

“It was Friday afternoon, mum. Am I not allowed to go out on Friday afternoon?”

“Sit down.” She instructed. “We’re going to have a chat.”

He did as he was told, letting his backpack sink to the floor.

“Where were you, Tom?”

“At the arcade.”

“With?

“With my friends.”

“Which friends are these?”

“Alex. And Callum.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, mum! What more do you want me to say?”

“You didn’t tell me you were not going to be home afterschool! What if something happened to you?”

“We live in Broadchurch, mum. The worst that ever happens is some sheep get stolen, you told me this-“

“Don’t get smart. And are you going to apologize for the stunt you pulled with your aunt?”

His face dropped.

“Why would you want to exclude me from our morning routine?”

“What happened to your face?”

“Someone ran into me at work. You’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m not a suspect, mum!”

“I am having trouble thinking of what on  _earth_ possessed you-“

“You were sleeping, mum. You work so late, and I wanted to give you-“

“I wake you most mornings! That’s my job! I’m your mother!” she burst.

He stared at her bleakly.

“No PlayStation this weekend.”

“Fine.”

“No seeing your friends this weekend.”

“Now you’re just being unfair!”

“I don’t care! You leave me waiting for you without knowing where you are, what happened to you!”

“If  _dad_ was here he would understand-” Tom's voice broke toward the end, reminding her of the time when he stood up in court lying to all the world to protect that vile man that ruined their lives.

“Your father-“ she started, angry and bitter, until falling short and losing steam.

Tom was staring at her, eyes burning with disgust.

 _If dad was here. If dad was here_. Echoed through Ellie’s head until she heard Tom slam the door upstairs.

 

x

 

“You are still here, Scotty?”

“Watts.”

“Don’t you have, say, a wife to go home to?” the ginger asked, seeing Hardy with his eyes fixed squarely at his computer screen.

“Not anymore.” Hardy said.

The man when quiet and Hardy looked at him from on top of his computer screen.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was a joke.”

“Oh, so you have a wife?”

“No.” Hardy said, watching Watt’s face retract with confusion.

“Sorry.” Hardy said, pulling his glasses off of his face, “It’s late.”

“Yes.” Watts agreed.

“Who needs so many computers anyway? Kids looking to make some cash? A guy upgrading his spy-bunker?”

“Someone who doesn’t spend their Friday night working?”

Hardy chuckled.

“Seriously, why are you so obsessed with this case?”

Hardy eyed the screen showing the baklava man loading a monitor onto the boot of the car.

“It’s odd.” Hardy said seriously, “The whole case is odd.”

“You’re odd.” Watts said.

 

x

 

The sound of the door slamming still echoed through his head, so Tom dug his headset out from under his bed and started climbing through his room window. A leap onto the adjacent wall later and he was on the street.

He had to get the hell out of that house.

His mother was smothering him. School was smothering him. Hell, even Aunt Lucy, his favourite person in the world, was beginning to smother him.

Why couldn’t he figure things out on his own? Tom didn’t want therapy. He didn’t want to waste his life in school.

He remembered the day that his cousin Olly told him that he was moving to London. It had been just over a month ago, but Tom still remembers the emptiness that the news brought. His cousin, one of the few remaining people in his life that he could tell anything, also decided that the grass was greener someplace else. And left him. Just like that. 

And nothing could fix that. Nothing could fix Danny slipping into oblivion. Nothing could fix his father being exiled out of his life. 

His mother though that weekly coding lessons with the vicar wild give him some kind of purpose. But did she ever see him and anything more than a problem? A child that needed more extra-murals and therapy to keep from whining? 

Exiling dad was one thing, but suddenly having affairs and dating every other detective from work?

That was beyond his empathy.

Joe wasn’t a good man. Tom knew that defending him in court had been wrong. He still thought about it at night, sometimes. When the guilt of everything piled up in his chest. Defending his father took away the justice Auntie Beth so desperately needed. To a large extent it was his fault that Mark and Beth were fighting.

But what killed Tom was his mother’s new belief that his dad wasn’t a good dad.

He was _the best dad_. Joe had been a lie, but the bond he shared with his dad had been true. The love his parents had for each other had been real. He didn’t imagine that.

“Oi, you!” A figure called from the other side of the cliff.

Tom stared, departing from his thoughts at last. He paused the music in his ears.

“You owe me a debt, boy.”

 

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! This chapter was such a complete different experience writing from the first two. I have always struggled writing anything further than an introduction or one-shot. But I really want to see this one through! I have hope!
> 
> I broke my collarbone so I was not allowed to use my right hand for a month (most fucking frustrating experience of my life). Typing with my left hand has been quiet the irritation! Hope you guys appreciate my slow labour.
> 
> :-)


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